CHAPTER VIII.
Return to Rome.—Her great reputation.—Friendship with Michael Angelo.—Medal of this period.—Removal to Orvieto.—Visit from Luca Contile.—Her determination not to quit the Church.—Francesco d'Olanda.—His record of conversations with Vittoria.—Vittoria at Viterbo.—Influence of Cardinal Pole on her mind.—Last return to Rome.—Her death.
Vittoria arrived in Rome from Ferrara in all probability about the end of the year 1537. She was now in the zenith of her reputation. The learned and elegant Bembo[198] writes of her, that he considered her poetical judgment as sound and authoritative as that of the greatest masters of the art of song. Guidiccioni, the poetical Bishop of Fossombrone, and one of Paul III.'s ablest diplomatists, declares[199] that the ancient glory of Tuscany had altogether passed into Latium in her person; and sends her sonnets of his own, with earnest entreaties that she will point out the faults of them. Veronica Gambara, herself a poetess, of merit perhaps not inferior to that of Vittoria, professed herself her most ardent admirer, and engaged Rinaldo Corso to write the commentary on her poems, which he executed as we have seen. Bernardo Tasso made her the subject of several of his poems. Giovio dedicated to her his life of Pescara, and Cardinal Pompeo Colonna his book on "The Praises of Women;" and Contarini paid her the far more remarkable compliment of dedicating to her his work "On Free Will."
Paul III. was, as Muratori says,[200] by no means well disposed towards the Colonna family. Yet Vittoria must have had influence with the haughty and severe old Farnese. For both Bembo, and Fregoso, the Bishop of Naples, have taken occasion to acknowledge that they owed their promotion to the purple in great measure to her.
But the most noteworthy event of this period of Vittoria's life, was the commencement of her acquaintance with Michael Angelo Buonarroti.[201] That great man was then in his 63rd year, while the poetess was in her 47th. The acquaintanceship grew rapidly into a close and durable friendship, which lasted during the remainder of Vittoria's life. It was a friendship eminently honourable to both of them. Michael Angelo was a man whose influence on his age was felt and acknowledged, while he was yet living and exercising it, to a degree rarely observable even in the case of the greatest minds. He had, at the time in question, already reached the zenith of his fame, although he lived to witness and enjoy it for another quarter of a century. He was a man formed by nature, and already habituated by the social position his contemporaries had accorded to him, to mould men—not to be moulded by them—not a smooth or pliable man; rugged rather, self-relying, self-concentrated, and, though full of kindness for those who needed kindness, almost a stern man; no courtier, though accustomed to the society of courts; and apt to consider courtier-like courtesies and habitudes as impertinent impediments to the requirements of his high calling, to be repressed rather than condescended to. Yet the strong and kingly nature of this high-souled old man was moulded into new form by contact with that of the comparatively youthful poetess.
The religious portion of the great artist's nature had scarcely shaped out for itself any more defined and substantial form of expression than a worship of the beautiful in spirit as well as in matter. By Vittoria he was made a devout Christian. The change is strongly marked in his poetry; and in several passages of the poems, four or five in number, addressed to her, he attributes it entirely to her influence.[202]
Some silly stuff has been written by very silly writers, by way of imparting the "interesting" character of a belle passion, more or less platonic, to this friendship between the sexagenarian artist and the immaculate Colonna. No argument is necessary to indicate the utter absurdity of an idea which implies a thorough ignorance of the persons in question, of the circumstances of their friendship, and of all that remains on record of what passed between them. Mr. Harford, whose "Life of Michael Angelo" has been already quoted, was permitted, he says, to hear read the letters from Vittoria to her friend, which are preserved in that collection of papers and memorials of the great artist, which forms the most treasured possession of his descendants;[203] and he gives the following account of them:[204]
"They are five in number; and there is a sixth, addressed by her to a friend, which relates to Michael Angelo. Two of these letters refer in very grateful terms to the fine drawings he had been making for her, and to which she alludes with admiration. Another glances with deep interest at the devout sentiments of a sonnet, which it appears he had sent for her perusal.... Another tells him in playful terms that his duties as architect of St. Peter's, and her own to the youthful inmates of the convent of St. Catherine at Viterbo, admit not of their frequently exchanging letters. This must have been written just a year before her death, which occurred in 1547. Michael Angelo became architect of St. Peter's in 1546. These letters are written with the most perfect ease, in a firm, strong hand; but there is not a syllable in any of them approaching to tenderness."
The period of Vittoria's stay in Rome on this occasion must have been a pleasant one. The acknowledged leader of the best and most intellectual society in that city; surrounded by a company of gifted and high-minded men, bound to her and to each other by that most intimate and ennobling of all ties, the common profession of a higher, nobler, purer theory of life than that which prevailed around them, and a common membership of what might almost be called a select church within a church, whose principles and teaching its disciples hoped to see rapidly spreading and beneficially triumphant; dividing her time between her religious duties, her literary occupations, and conversation with well-loved and well-understood friends;—Vittoria can hardly have been still tormented by temptations to commit suicide. Yet in a medal struck in her honour at this period of her life, the last of the series engraved for Visconti's edition of her works, the reverse represents a phœnix on her funeral pile gazing on the sun, while the flames are rising around her. The obverse has a bust of the poetess, showing the features a good deal changed in the course of the six or seven years which had elapsed since the execution of that silly Pyramus and Thisbe medal mentioned in a previous chapter, though still regular and well formed. The tendency to fatness and to a comfortable-looking double chin is considerably increased. She wears a singularly unbecoming head-dress of plaited linen, sitting close to and covering the entire head, with long pendants at the sides falling over the shoulders.
These pleasant Roman days were, however, destined to be of brief duration. They were cut short, strange as the statement may seem, by the imposition of an increased tax upon salt. For when Paul III. resorted, in 1539, to that always odious and cruel means of pillaging his people, Ascanio Colonna maintained that, by virtue of some ancient privilege, the new tax could not be levied on his estates. The pontifical tax-gatherers imprisoned certain of his vassals for refusing to pay; whereupon Ascanio assembled his retainers, made a raid into the Campagna, and drove off a large number of cattle.[205] The Pope lost no time in gathering an army of ten thousand men, and "war was declared" between the sovereign and the Colonna. The varying fortunes of this "war" have been narrated in detail by more than one historian.[206] Much mischief was done, and a great deal of misery occasioned by both the contending parties. But at length the forces of the Sovereign got the better of those of his vassal, and the principal fortresses of the Colonna were taken, and their fortifications ordered to be razed.
It was in consequence of these misfortunes, and of that remarkable "solidarity" which, as has been before observed, united in those days the members of a family in their fortunes and reverses, that Vittoria quitted Rome, probably towards the end of 1540, and retired to Orvieto. But the loss of their brightest ornament was a misfortune which the higher circles of Roman society could not submit to patiently. Many of the most influential personages at Paul III.'s court visited the celebrated exile at Orvieto, and succeeded ere long in obtaining her return to Rome after a very short absence.[207] And we accordingly find her again in the eternal city in the August of 1541.
There is a letter written by Luca Contile,[208] the Sienese historian, dramatist and poet, in which he speaks of a visit he had paid to Vittoria in Rome in that month. She asked him, he writes, for news of Fra Bernardino (Ochino), and on his replying that he had left behind him at Milan the highest reputation for virtue and holiness, she answered, "God grant that he so persevere!"
On this passage of Luca Contile's letter, Visconti and others have built a long argument in proof of Vittoria's orthodoxy. It is quite clear, they say, that she already suspected and lamented Ochino's progress towards heresy, and thus indicates her own aversion to aught that might lead to separation from the church of Rome. It would be difficult, however, to show that the simple phrase in question had necessarily any such meaning. But any dispute on this point is altogether nugatory; for it may be at once admitted that Vittoria did not quit, and in all probability would not under any circumstances have quitted, the communion of the Church. And if this is all that her Romanist biographers wish to maintain, they unquestionably are correct in their statements. She acted in this respect in conformity with the conduct of the majority of those eminent men whose disciple and friend she was during so many years. And the final extinction of the reformatory movement in Italy was in great measure due precisely to the fact that conformity to Rome was dearer to most Italian minds than the independent assertion of their own opinions. It may be freely granted that there is every reason to suppose that it would have been so to Vittoria, had she not been so fortunate as to die before her peculiar tenets were so definitively condemned as to make it necessary for her to choose between abandoning them or abandoning Rome. But surely all the interest which belongs to the question of her religious opinions consists in the fact that she, like the majority of the best minds of her country and age, assuredly held doctrines which Rome discovered and declared to be incompatible with her creed.
A more agreeable record of Vittoria's presence in Rome at this time, and an interesting glimpse of the manner in which many of her hours were passed, is to be found in the papers left by one Francesco d'Olanda,[209] a Portuguese painter, who was then in the eternal city. He had been introduced, he tells us, by the kindness of Messer Lattanzio Tolemei of Siena to the Marchesa de Pescara, and also to Michael Angelo; and he has recorded at length several conversations between these and two or three other members of their society in which he took part. The object of his notes appears to have been chiefly to preserve the opinions expressed by the great Florentine on subjects connected with the arts. And it must be admitted, that the conversation of the eminent personages mentioned, as recorded by the Portuguese painter, appears, if judged by the standard of nineteenth century notions, to have been wonderfully dull and flat.
The record is a very curious one even in this point of view. It is interesting to measure the distance between what was considered first-rate conversation in 1540, and what would be tolerated among intelligent people in 1850. The good-old-times admirers, who would have us believe that the ponderous erudition of past generations is distasteful to us, only by reason of the touch-and-go butterfly frivolousness of the modern mind, are in error. The long discourses which charmed a sixteenth century audience, are to us intolerably boring, because they are filled with platitudes;—with facts, inferences, and speculations, that is, which have passed and repassed through the popular mind, till they have assumed the appearance of self-evident truths and fundamental axioms, which it is loss of time to spend words on. And time has so wonderfully risen in value! And though there are more than ever men whose discourse might be instructive and profitable to their associates, the universality of the habit of reading prevents conversation from being turned into a lecture. Those who have matter worth communicating, can do so more effectually and to a larger audience by means of the pen; and those willing to be instructed, can make themselves masters of the thoughts of others far more satisfactorily by the medium of a book.
But the external circumstances of these conversations, noted down for us by Francesco d'Olanda, give us an amusing peep into the literary life of the Roman world three hundred years ago.
It was one Sunday afternoon that the Portuguese artist went to call on Messer Lattanzio Tolemei, nephew of the cardinal of that name. The servants told him, that their master was in the church of San Silvestro, at Monte Cavallo, in company with the Marchesa di Pescara, for the purpose of hearing a lecture on the Epistles of St. Paul, from a certain Friar Ambrose of Siena. Maestro Francesco lost no time in following his friend thither. And "as soon as the reading and the interpretations of it were over," the Marchesa turning to the stranger, and inviting him to sit beside her, said; "If I am not mistaken, Francesco d'Olanda would better like to hear Michael Angelo preach on painting, than to listen to Friar Ambrose's lecture."
Whereupon the painter, "feeling himself piqued," assures the lady that he can take interest in other matters than painting, and that however willingly he would listen to Michael Angelo on art, he would prefer to hear Friar Ambrose when St. Paul's epistles were in question.
"Do not be angry, Messer Francesco," said Signor Lattanzio, thereupon. "The Marchesa is far from doubting that the man capable of painting may be capable of aught else. We, in Italy, have too high an estimate of art for that. But, perhaps, we should gather from the remark of the Signora Marchesa the intention of adding to the pleasure you have already had, that of hearing Michael Angelo."
"In that case, said I, her Excellence would do only as is her wont;—that is, to accord greater favours than one would have dared to ask of her."
So Vittoria calls to a servant, and bids him go to the house of Michael Angelo, and tell him, "that I and Messer Lattanzio are here in this cool chapel, that the church is shut, and very pleasant, and ask him if he will come and spend a part of the day with us, that we may put it to profit in his company. But do not tell him that Francesco d'Olanda the Spaniard is here."
Then there is some very mild raillery about how Michael Angelo was to be led to speak of painting;—it being, it seems, very questionable whether he could be induced to do so; and a little bickering follows between Maestro Francesco and Friar Ambrose, who feels convinced that Michael will not be got to talk before the Portuguese, while the latter boasts of his intimacy with the great man.
Presently there is a knock at the church door. It is Michael Angelo, who has been met by the servant as he was going towards the baths, talking with Orbino, his colour-grinder.
"The Marchesa rose to receive him, and remained standing a good while, before making him sit down between her and Messer Lattanzio." Then, "with an art, which I can neither describe nor imitate, she began to talk of various matters with infinite wit and grace, without ever touching the subject of painting, the better to make sure of the great painter."
"One is sure enough," she says at last, "to be completely beaten, as often as one ventures to attack Michael Angelo on his own ground, which is that of wit and raillery. You will see, Messer Lattanzio, that to put him down and reduce him to silence, we must talk to him of briefs, law processes, or painting."
By which subtle and deep-laid plot the great man is set off into a long discourse on painters and painting.
"His Holiness," said the Marchesa, after a while, "has granted me the favour of authorising me to build a new convent, near this spot, on the slope of Monte Cavallo, where there is the ruined portico, from the top of which, it is said, that Nero looked on while Rome was burning; so that virtuous women may efface the trace of so wicked a man. I do not know, Michael Angelo, what form or proportions to give the building, or on which side to make the entrance. Would it not be possible to join together some parts of the ancient constructions, and make them available towards the new building?"
"Yes," said Michael Angelo; "the ruined portico might serve for a bell-tower."
This repartee, says our Portuguese reporter, was uttered with so much seriousness and aplomb, that Messer Lattanzio could not forbear from remarking it.
From which we are led to infer, that the great Michael was understood to have made a joke. He added, however, more seriously; "I think, that your Excellence may build the proposed convent without difficulty; and when we go out, we can, if your Excellence so please, have a look at the spot, and suggest to you some ideas."
Then, after a complimentary speech from Vittoria, in which she declares that the public, who know Michael Angelo's works only without being acquainted with his character, are ignorant of the best part of him, the lecture, to which all this is introductory begins. And when the company part at its close, an appointment is made to meet again another Sunday in the same church.
A painter in search of an unhackneyed subject might easily choose a worse one than that suggested by this notable group, making the cool and quiet church their Sunday afternoon drawing-room.
The few remaining years of Vittoria's life were spent between Rome and Viterbo, an episcopal city some thirty miles to the north of it. In this latter her home was in the convent of the nuns of St. Catherine. Her society there consisted chiefly of Cardinal Pole, the governor of Viterbo, her old friend Marco Antonio Flaminio, and Archbishop Soranzo.
During these years the rapidly increasing consciousness on the part of the Church of the danger of the doctrines held by the reforming party, was speedily making it unsafe to profess those opinions, which, as we have seen, gave the colour to so large a portion of Vittoria's poetry, and which had formed her spiritual character. And these friends, in the closest intimacy with whom she lived at Viterbo, were not the sort of men calculated to support her in any daring reliance on the dictates of her own soul, when these chanced to be in opposition to the views of the Church. Pole appears to have been at this time the special director of her conscience. And we know but too well, from the lamentable sequel of his own career, the sort of counsel he would be likely to give her under the circumstances. There is an extremely interesting letter extant, written by her from Viterbo to the Cardinal Cervino, who was afterwards Pope Marcellus II., which proves clearly enough, to the great delight of her orthodox admirers, that let her opinions have been what they might, she was ready to "submit" them to the censureship of Rome. We have seen how closely her opinions agreed with those which drove Bernardino Ochino to separate himself from the Church, and fly from its vengeance. Yet under Pole's tutelage she writes as follows:—
"Most Illustrious and most Reverend Sir,
"The more opportunity I have had of observing the actions of his Eminence the Cardinal of England (Pole), the more clear has it seemed to me that he is a true and sincere servant of God. Whenever, therefore, he charitably condescends to give me his opinion on any point, I conceive myself safe from error in following his advice. And he told me that, in his opinion, I ought, in case any letter or other matter should reach me from Fra Bernardino, to send the same to your most Reverend Lordship, and return no answer, unless I should be directed to do so. I send you therefore the enclosed, which I have this day received, together with the little book attached. The whole was in a packet, which came to the post here by a courier from Bologna, without any other writing inside. And I have thought it best not to make use of any other means of sending it, than by a servant of my own." * * *
She adds in a postscript:
"It grieves me much that the more he tries to excuse himself the more he accuses himself; and the more he thinks to save others from shipwreck, the more he exposes himself to the flood, being himself out of the ark which saves and secures."[210]
Poor Ochino little thought probably that his letter to his former admiring and fervent disciple, would be passed on with such a remark to the hands of his enemies! He ought, however, to have been aware that princesses and cardinals, whatever speculations they may have indulged in, do not easily become heretics.
She returned once more from Viterbo to Rome towards the end of the year 1544, and took up her residence in the convent of Benedictines of St Anne. While there she composed the latin prayer, printed in the note,[211] which has been much admired, and which, though not so Ciceronian in its diction as Bembo might have written, will bear comparison with similar compositions by many more celebrated persons. Several of the latest of her poems were also written at this time. But her health began to fail so rapidly as to give great uneasiness to her friends. Several letters are extant from Tolomei to her physician, anxiously inquiring after her health, urging him to neglect no resources of his art, and bidding him remember that "the lives of many, who continually receive from her their food—some that of the body, and others that of the mind—are bound up in hers."[212] The celebrated physician and poet Fracastoro, was written to in Verona. In his reply, after suggesting medical remedies, he says, "Would that a physician for her mind could be found! Otherwise the fairest light in this world will, from causes by no means clear (a non so che strano modo) be extinguished and taken from our eyes."[213]
The medical opinion of Fracastoro, writing from a distance, may not be of much value. But it is certain that many circumstances combined to render these declining years of Vittoria's life unhappy. The fortunes of her family were under a cloud; and it is probable that she was as much grieved by her brother's conduct, as by the consequences of it. The death also of the Marchese del Vasto, in the flower of his age, about this time, was a severe blow to her. Ever since those happy early days in Ischia, when she had been to him, as she said, morally and intellectually a mother, the closest ties of affection had united them; and his loss was to Vittoria like that of a son. Then again, though she had perfectly made up her mind as to the line of conduct it behoved her to take in regard to any difficulties of religious opinion, yet it cannot be doubted that the necessity of separating herself from so many whom she had loved and venerated, deserting them, as it were, in their falling fortunes, must have been acutely painful to her. Possibly also conscience was not wholly at rest with her on this matter. It may be that the still voice of inward conviction would sometimes make obstinate murmur against blindfold submission to a priesthood, who ought not, according to the once expressed opinion of the poetess, to come between the creature and his creator.
As she became gradually worse and weaker, she was removed from the convent of St. Anne, to the neighbouring house of Giuliano Cesarini, the husband of Giulia Colonna, the only one of her kindred then left in Rome. And there she breathed her last towards the end of February, 1547, in the 57th year of her age.
In her last hours she was visited by her faithful and devotedly attached friend Michael Angelo, who watched the departure of the spirit from her frame; and who declared,[214] years afterwards, that he had never ceased to regret that in that solemn moment he had not ventured to press his lips for the first and last time, to the marble forehead of the dead.
She had directed that her funeral should be in all respects like that of one of the sisters of the convent in which she last resided. And so completely were her behests attended to, that no memorial of any kind remains to tell the place of her sepulture.
APPENDIX.
ORIGINAL TEXT OF CATHERINE'S LETTER TO THE KING OF FRANCE.
LETTERA 187.
Carissimo padre in Cristo dolce Jesù. Io Catarina, schiava de' servi di Jesù Cristo, scrivo a voi nel prezioso sangue suo, con desiderio di vedere in voi uno vero e perfettissimo lume, acciò che cognosciate le verità di quello che v'è necessario per la vostra salute. Senza questo lume andaremmo in tenebre, la qual tenebre non lascia discernere quello che ci è nocivo all'anima e al corpo, e quello che ci è utile; e per questo guasta il gusto dell'anima, che le cose buone le fanno parer cattive e le cattive buone, cioè il vizio; e quelle cose che ci conducono a peccato, ci pajono buone e dilettevoli; e le virtù e quello che ci induce alla virtù ci pajono amare e di grande malagevolezza: ma chi ha lume cognosce bene la verità: e però ama la virtù, e Dio, che è la cagione di ogni virtù, ed odia il vizio e la propria sensualità, che è cagione d'ogni vizio. Chi ci tolle questo vero e dolce lume? L'amor proprio che l'uomo ha a sè medesimo, il quale è una nuvola che offusca l'occhio dell'intelletto e ricopre la pupilla del lume della santissima fede; e però va come cieco ed ignorante seguitando la fragilità sua, tutto passionato senza lume di ragione, si come animale che, perchè non ha ragione, si lassa guidare al proprio sentimento. Grande miseria e dell'uomo, il quale Dio ha creato all'imagine e similitudine sua, che egli voluntariamente per suo difetto si facci peggio che animale bruto, come ingrato ed ignorante non cognosce, nè ricognosce li benefizj da Dio, ma ritribuisceli a sè medesimo. Dall'amor proprio procede ogni male. Unde vengono le ingiustizie e tutti gli altri difetti? dall'amore proprio. Egli commette ingiustizia contra Dio, contra sè e contra al prossimo suo, e contra la santa Chiesa. Contra Dio la commette, che non rende gloria e loda al nome suo come egli è obbligato; a sè non rende odio e dispiacimento del vizio, ed amore delle virtù; nè al prossimo la benivolenza; e se egli è signore non gli tiene giustizia, perchè non la fa se non secondo il piacere delle creature o per proprio suo piacere umano. Nè alla Chiesa rende l'obbedienzia e non la sovviene, ma continuamente la perseguita: di tutto è cagione l'amor proprio, che non il lassa cognoscere la Verità, perchè è privato del lume. Questo ci è molto manifesto, e tutto dì il vediamo e proviamo in noi medesimi, che egli è così.
Non vorrei, carrissimo padre, che questa nuvola vi tollesse il lume; ma voglio che in voi sia quel lume che vi faccia cognoscere e discernere la Verità. Parmi secondo che io intendo, che cominciate a lassarvi guidare al consiglio de' tenebrosi, e voi sapete, che se l'uno cieco guida l'altro, ambidue caggiono nella fossa. Così diverrà a voi, se voi non ci ponete altro remedio che quello che io sento. Honne grande ammirazione che uomo cattolico che voglià temere Dio ed esser virile, si lassi guidare come fanciullo, e che non vegga come metta sè e altrui in tanta ruina, quanta è di contaminare il lume della santissima fede per consiglio e detto di coloro che noi vediamo esser membri del demonio, arbori corrotti, dei quali ci sono manifesti i diffetti loro per l'ultimo veleno che hanno seminato della eresia: dicendo che papa Urbano VI. non sia veramente papa. Aprite l'occhio dell'intelletto, e riguardate che essi mentono sopra il capo loro, per loro medesimi si possono confondere, e veggonsi degni di grande supplicio da qualunque lato noi ci volliamo. Se noi ci volliamo a quelli che essi dicono, che l'elessero per paura della furia del populo, essi non dicono la verità, perocchè prima l'avevano eletto con elezione canonica ed ordinata sì come fosse eletto mai verun altro sommo pontifice. Essi si spacciarono ben di fare la elezione per lo timore che il populo no si levasse, ma non che per timore elli non elegessero misser Bartolomeo arcivescovo di Bari, il quale è oggi papa Urbano VI., e così confesso in verità, e non lo niego. Quello che essi elessero per paura, ciò fu missere di Santo Pietro, apparbe evidente a ciascuno, ma la elezione di papa Urbano era fatta ordinamente come detto è. Questo annunziarono a voi e a noi, ed agli altri signori del mondo, manifestando per opera quello che ci dicevano con parole, cioè facendoli riverenzia, adorandolo come Cristo in terra, e coronandolo con tanta solennità; rifacendo di nuovo l'elezione con grande concordia: a lui come sommo pontifice chiesero le grazie, ed usaronle; e se non fusse stato vero, che papa Urbano fusse papa, ma che lo avessoro eletto per paura, e non sarebbero essi degni eternalmente di confusione? Che le colonne della santa Chiesa poste per dilatare la fede, per timore della morte corporale volessero dare a loro ed a noi morte eternale? Mostrando ci per padre quello che non fussi? E non sarebbero essi ladri, tollendo ed usando quello, che non potessero usare? Sì ben; se vero fusse quello che ora dicono che non è, anco è veramente papa Urbano VI., ma come stolti e matti accecati dal proprio amore, hanno mostrata e data a noi questa verità, e per loro tengono la bugia: tanto la confessarono questa verità, quanto la Santità sua indugiò a voler correggere i vizi loro: ma come egli cominciò a monderli ed a mostrare, che lo scellerato viver loro li era spiacevole e che egli voleva ponervi il rimedio, subito levarono il capo. E contra chi l'hanno levato? contra la santa fede. Fatto hanno peggio che cristiani rinnegati.
O miseri uomini! Essi non cognosceno la loro ruina, nè chi gli sequita, che se la cognoscessero, essi chiederebbero l'adiutorio divino; ricognoscerebbero le colpe loro, e non sarebbero ostinati come dimonia, che drittamente pajono dimonj, e preso hanno l'ufficio loro. L'ufficio delle dimonia è di pervertire l'anime da Cristo crocifisso, sottrarle dalla via della verità, e inducierle alla bugia e recarle a sè, che è padre delle bugie per pena e per supplicio, dando a loro, quello che egli ha per sè. Così questi vanno sovvertendo la verità, la quel verità essi medesimi ci hanno data, e riducendo alla bugia, hanno messo tutto il mondo in divisione; e di quel male che essi hanno in loro, di quello porgono a noi. Voliamo noi ben conoscere questa verità? Or ragguardiamo e consideriamo la vita e costumi loro, e che sèquito essi hanno pure di loro medesimi, che seguitano le vestigie delle iniquità, perocchè l'uno dimonio non è contrario all'altro, anco s'accordano insieme. E perdonatemi, carissimo padre: padre vi terrò in quanto io vi vegga amatore della verità e confonditore della bugia: perchè io dico così, perochè 'l dolore della dannazione loro e d'altrui me n'è cagione, e l'amore ch'io porto alla salute loro. Questo non dico in dispregio loro in quanto creature, ma in dispregio del vizio e dell'eresia che esci hanno seminata per tutto il mondo, e della crudeltà che essi usano a loro e all'anime tapinelle che per loro periscono; delle quali li converrà render ragione dinanzi al sommo giudice: che se fussero stati uomini che avessero temuto Dio o la vergogna del mondo, se Dio non volevano temere: se papa Urbano gli avessi fatto il peggio, che egli l'avesse potuto fare, e maggiore vituperio averebbe pazientemente portato ed eletto innanzi mille morti, che fare quello che hanno fatto, che a maggior vergogna e danno non possono venire, che apparire agli occhi delle creature scismatici ed eretici contaminatori della santa fede. Se io veggi il danno dell'anima e del corpo, si mostrano per l'eresia privati di Dio per grazia, e corporalmente privati della dignità loro di ragione, ed essi medesimi l'hanno fatto. Se io ragguardo il divino giudizio, elli si vede presso a loro, se non si levano di questa tenebre, perocchè ogni colpa è punita e ogni bene è rimunerato. Duro li sarà a ricalcitrare a Dio, se tutto lo sforzo umano avessero. Dio è somma fortezza che fortifica i debili che ci confidano e sperano in lui. Ed è verità. E la verità è quella cosa che ci delibera. Noi vediamo, che solo la verità de' servi di Dio seguitano e tengono questa verità di papa Urbano VI., confessandolo veramente papa, come egli è; non trovarete un servo di Dio che tenga il contrario, che sia servo di Dio; non dico di quelli che portono di fuore il vestimento della pecora, e dentro sono lupi rapaci. E credete voi, che se questa non fusse verità che Dio sostenesse, che i servi suoi andassero in tanta tenebre? Non il sosterrebbe. Se egli il sostiene all'iniqui uomini del mondo, non sostiene a loro, e però l'ha dato lume di questa verità, perchè non è spregiatore de' santi desiderj, anco ne è accettatore come padre benigno e pietoso che gli è. Questi vorrei che voi chiamaste a voi, a farvi dichiarare di questa verità, e non voliate andare sì ignorantemente. Non vi muova la passione propria che ella sarà peggio a voi che a persona. Abbiate compassione a tante anime, quante mettete nelle mani delle dimonia. Se non volete fare il bene, almeno non fate male, ch'el male spessi volte torna più sopra colui che'l fa, che sopra colui a chi vuole essere fatto; tanto male n'esce, che ne perdiamo Dio per grazia, consumansi e beni temporali, e seguitane la morte degli uomini. Doimè! e non par che noi vediamo lume, che la nuvola dell'amor propio ci ha tolto il lume, e non ci lassa vedere; per questo siamo atti a recevere ogni male informazione che ci fusse data contra la verità dagli amatori di loro medesimi: ma se averemo il lume non sarà così ma con grande prudenzia e timore santo di Dio, vorrete cognoscere ed investigare questa verità per uomini di conscienzia e di scienzia. Se voi vorrete, in voi non cadrà ignoranzia, perchè avete costà la fontana della scienzia, la quale temo che non perdiate, se voi terrete questi modi, e sapete bene come ne starà il reame vostro, se saranno uomini di buona coscienzia, che non vogliono seguitare il piacere umano con timore servile, ma la verità; essi vi dichiareranno e porranno in pace la mente e l'anima vostra. Or non più così, carissimo padre, recatevi la mente al petto, pensate che voi dovete morire e non sapete quando; ponetevi dinanzi all'occhio dell'intelletto Dio e la verità sua, e non la passione nè l'amore della patria, che quanto a Dio non doviamo fare differenzia più d'uno che d'un altro, perchè tutti siamo esciti dalla sua santa mente, creati all'imagine e similitudine sua, e ricomprati nel prezioza sangue dell'unigenito suo Figliuolo. So' certa, che se averete il lume voi il farete, e non aspetterete il tempo, perchè il tempo non aspetta voi, ed invitarete loro a tornare alla santa e vera obbedienzia, ma altrimenti no. E però dissi che io desideraro di vedere in voi un vero e perfettissimo lume, acciocchè col lume cognosciate, amiate e temiate la verità. Sarà allora beata l'anima mia per la salute vostra, di vedervi escire di tanto errore. Altro non vi dico. Permanete nella santa e dolce dilezioni di Dio. Perdonatemi, se troppo v' ho gravato di parole. L'amore della vostra salute mi costrigne a più tosto dirvele a bocca con la presenzia che per scritta. Dio vi riempia della sua dolcissima grazia. Jesù dolce, Jesù amore.
NOTES.
NOTE TO LIFE OF CATHERINE OF SIENA.
Note 1.—Page 5.
Although I have, since writing the passage in the text, been convinced by the letter of Dr. H. C. Barlow in the Athenæum of July the 3rd, 1858, that the Fontebranda at Siena was not alluded to by Dante in the well-known passage referred to, yet as the error, in which I shared, is so general, that every "Dantescan pilgrim" does, as stated in the text, hurry to visit the Sienese fountain, solely for the sake of that one line of the great poet, I have not thought it necessary to alter the passage; contenting myself with providing against further propagation of the mistake by this note. I have again visited Romena in the Casentino, since reading Dr. Barlow's convincing letter; and have no doubt whatever, that Adam the coiner, was thinking of the well-remembered waters of the Casentino, the scene of his crime,—a locality with which the poet also was, as we know, familiar,—and not of the distant and nihil-ad-rem Siena fountain; which will henceforth be deposed from its Dantescan honours by the verdict of all save Sienese students of the Inferno. These Dr. Barlow must not expect to convince.
NOTES TO LIFE OF CATERINA SFORZA.
1.—Page 100.
MS. Priorista of Buoudelmonte. This important chronicle, forming a very large folio volume, is the property of Signore Pietro Bigazzi, Secretary of the Academia della Crusca; a gentleman, whose accurate and extensive knowledge of Italian history is as remarkable as the liberality with which he is ever ready to put the stores of his erudition at the service of students.
2.—Page 106.
The diarist Stefano Infessura, in his valuable chronicle of the events which occurred at Rome from A.D. 1294 to A.D. 1494, the latter years of which period are recorded with great and most amusing detail, says that the viands on the occasion of this memorable festival were gilt! He especially notes that sugar was lavishly used: a special indication of reckless extravagance.
In recording another equally magnificent festival given by the Cardinal to Leonora, daughter of King Ferrante, who passed through Rome on her way northwards to be married to the Duke of Ferrara, Infessura tells us that this Franciscan mendicant turned Cardinal caused the bedchamber of the princess and those of all the ladies of her court to be furnished with certain implements of a kind generally deemed more useful than ornamental, made of gold! "Oh! guarda," cries the historian, as he well might, "in quale cosa bisogna che si adoperi lo tesauro della Chiesa!" Rer. Ital. Script. Tom III. Pars. II. p. 1144.
3.—Page 108.
Some discrepancies in the accounts of these transactions and the dates of them in the contemporary historians have led Burriel into supposing that the Cardinal Riario made two journeys to Milan, the first in 1472, and the second in 1473, and that on both occasions he arrived there on the 12th of September. The first journey however is, as far as I can find from a careful examination of the authorities, wholly imaginary. The difficulty seems to have been, that Corio represents Girolamo Riario, the proposed bridegroom, to have been invested with the County of Imola on the 6th of November, 1472. And it is difficult to suppose that this could have been done before all the conditions of the marriage were finally arranged, which they certainly were not till after the Cardinal's journey to Milan. But Corio is a very untrustworthy guide as far as dates are concerned. Another blunder of his in the very passage, in which he tells of Imola having been given to Girolamo Riario as Catherine's dower, might have put Burriel on his guard. When the marriage was determined on, he says, the Duke "gave her Imola for her dower.... After that—dipoi—on the 20th of August, Borso of Este, Marquis of Ferrara, died." Now that prince died on the 27th of May, 1471.
Muratori (ad ann. 1473), quoting Platina assigns the true date of 1473 to Girolamo's investiture of the County of Imola; but supposed that that principality was purchased by the Cardinal of the Manfredi family for forty thousand ducats, and given by him to his brother. But as to this point of the story Burriel must be considered to be correct. For he says, that the conditions of the marriage, including the giving Imola as the bride's dower, "are proved by Catherine's last Will and Testament, which we have before us, and by Filippo of Bergamo in his life of the Count, and by Andrea Bernardi in his chronicle, both of whom were contemporary writers." The notion of the sum of forty thousand ducats having been paid by the Riarios for Imola seems to have arisen from the fact, that that sum was by the marriage contract stipulated to be paid down by the Pope.[215]
It is remarkable that the two most notable historians of Milan in recent times, Verri and Rosmini, are both wholly silent as to the marriage of Catherine, the negociations with the Cardinal Riario on that subject, and the acquisition of Imola.
Count Pietro Verri died in 1797, leaving his History of Milan incomplete. It has been often reprinted, and has been always highly esteemed by his fellow countrymen.
The four bulky and handsome 4to. volumes of the Cavaliere Carlo de' Rosmini on the History of Milan were printed in 1820; and have taken the rank of a standard work.
Bernardino Corio, "gentleman of Milan," was one of Duke Maria Galeazzo's pages and chamberlains; and in that part of his history, therefore, which touches our subject, is an eye-witness of what he relates. Should any reader have the curiosity to refer to the amusing pages of this old writer, he must take care to look at the edition printed at Padua, in one vol. 4to, 1646. That printed at Venice in the same form about half a century earlier is grossly incomplete. For instance, the whole of the interesting description of the Duke's gorgeous cavalcade, from which the text is taken, is omitted in the Venice edition.
4.—Page 115.
The original text of this Roman lampoon is given here from Corio, that the classical reader may see more specifically what were the vices attributed to this pillar of the Church, than an English page can venture to catalogue them.
"Omne scelus fugiat Latia modo procul aburbe,
Et virtus, probitas, imperet atque pudor.
Fur, scortum, leno, mechus, pedica, cynedus,
Et scurra, et phidicen cedat ab Italia.
Namque illa Ausonii pestis scelerata Senatus
Petrus ad infernas est modo raptus aquas."
The original of the eulogistic epitaph given by Burriel, which has at least the merit of brevity, runs thus:—
"Ante annos scivisse nocet; nam maxima virtus
Persuasit morti, ut crederit esse senem."
5.—Page 120.
A curious example of the audacious cynicism of this Milanese despot—and, to be just, we must add, to a great degree, of the time in which he lived—is to be found in certain documents of that period printed by Rossini in the appendices to his history. The following condition, which we must be permitted to leave in its original Latin, is found in a deed of gift to a lady named Lucia Marliana, wife of Ambrogio dei Reverti. It was duly and formally executed before a notary public, and then preserved among the other state papers and archives of the Duchy.
"Quamquidem donationem," it runs: "Valere volumus ut supra dummodo prædicta Lucia cum marito suo per carnalem copulam se non commisceat sine nostra speciali licenciâ in scriptis, nec cum alio viro rem habeat, exceptâ personâ nostrâ, si forte cum eâ coire aliquando libuerit. * * * * Speramus tamen ipsam ita victuram et sese habituram in devotione et hac monitione nostra promerito ab omni suspicione de concubitu mariti sine nostrâ licenciâ."
Rosmini intimates that it appears that these conditions were duly observed. Perhaps he means only that we may conclude them to have been so from the fact that the deed of gift was not disturbed. It was indeed followed by many others of the most preposterous prodigality, to such an extent that the Lady Lucia Marliana became one of the wealthiest individuals in all Lombardy.
6.—Page 124.
The particulars of female costume mentioned in the text are taken from a very valuable and curious chronicle, printed by Muratori in the 16th vol. of his collection. See Rer. Ital. Scrip. T. 16. p. 50 et seq. It is the Chronicon Placentinum by Johannes de Mussis, citizen of Placentia. He is a vehement laudator temporis acti; and laments the degeneracy and increasing luxury of his day in the well known tone of the moralists of any age. The passage is so curious that I am tempted to translate a considerable portion for the amusement of those who are not likely to seek the original in the vast treasure-house of Muratori.
"In the good old time," says John de Mussis, "man and wife at supper eat out of one dish. The use of carved wooden utensils at table was unknown. One or two cups for drinking served the whole family. Those who supped at night lighted the table with torches held in the hand of a boy or servant; for candles of tallow or of wax were not in use. The men wore cloaks of skin, or of wool, or of hemp. Women at their marriage wore tunics of hemp. Coarse were then the fashions both for men and women. Of gold or silver little or none was seen in the dress. There was no luxury in food. Men of the people eat fresh meat thrice a-week. Then for dinner they eat herbs and garden produce, which had been boiled with the meat; and made their supper of the meat put by for that purpose. The use of wine in the summer was not general. Men deemed themselves rich with a small amount of money. Small were the cellars in those days; and the larders no bigger. Women were content to marry with a small dower, because their mode of life was excessively frugal. Virgins before their marriage were content with a hempen tunic, which was called a 'sotana,' (the modern Italian word for a petticoat) and a linen[216] garment called a 'socca.' Virgins wore no costly head-dresses. Matrons bound their temples, cheeks, and chin with broad fillets. * * * * Now the old customs are superseded by many indecorous usages. But especially for the destruction of souls has parsimony been changed for luxury. Clothes are seen of exquisite material and workmanship, and ornamented to excess. We have silver and gold and pearls in cunning devices; fringes of wonderful breadth, linings of silk varied with foreign and costly skins. Incitements to gluttony are not wanting. Foreign wines are drunk. Drinking is almost universal. Sumptuous dishes are publicly used. Cooks are held in high honour. Every sort of provocative to gluttony and greed is in request. And avarice is called into play for the purpose of supplying the means for all this. Hence come usury, frauds, rapaciousness, robbery, exiles, domestic broils, unlawful profits, oppression of the innocent, the extermination of families, and banishment of the rich. We say 'our God is our belly,' We return to the pomps which we have renounced in our baptism, and are deserters from God to the devil. And were it not that the clergy edify us by their pure examples, there would soon be no limit to our luxury and ambition. * * * * Our ladies wear long and large robes of crimson silk velvet, or of cloth of silk, brocaded with gold, or of cloth of gold, or of simple cloth of silk, of cloth of scarlet or crimson wool, or other costly cloths. And these cloths of purple stuff, or of velvet, or of cloth of gold or brocade cost for a mantle or gown from 25 up to 40 golden florins or ducats. * * * * And on some of these dresses there are large and deep fringes of gold around the collar, which encircles the throat, for all the world like the spiked collar round the neck of a dog. On others there are put from three to five ounces of pearls, worth ten golden florins an ounce. And they wear small hoods with large golden fringes, or with rows of pearls around the said hoods. And they go girt about the waist with handsome girdles of gilt silver, or of pearls, worth about 25 golden florins the girdle. Sometimes no girdle is worn. And every lady has trinkets of gold and precious stones to the value of from 30 to 50 golden florins.
"Some, however, of these dresses are decorous, because they do not expose the bosom. But they have other indecent dresses, which are called Ciprians; these are made extremely large towards the feet, and close-fitting from the waist upwards, with long and large sleeves, like those described above. They are of similar cost also, and are adorned with jewels of equal value. And they are ornamented in front, from the neck to the feet, with bosses of silver-gilt or of pearls. And these Ciprians have the opening around the neck so large that they show the bosom, et videtur, quod dictæ mamillæ velint exire de sinu earum. Which dresses would be magnificent, if they did not expose the bosom, and if the collar was so decently close that at least the breast should not be visible to every body. These ladies also wear in their head-dresses jewels of great price. For instance, some wear coronets of silver-gilt, or of pure gold, adorned with pearls and precious stones, to the value of from 70 to 100 golden florins. And others wear 'terzollas' of large pearls, worth from 100 to 125 golden florins. Which 'terzollas' are so called, because they are made of 300 great pearls, and because they are made and ranged in three tiers. These ladies, too, in the place of the chaplets of gold or of silk, which they used to wear twined in the hair of their head, now wear supports for the hair, 'bugulos,' as they are called, which they cover with their hair tied over the said 'bugulos,' with braiding of silk or of gold, or with silver braiding covered with pearls."
The chronicler then describes the dress of grave matrons and that of widows. The fashions of the young men give as much, or more, offence to the writer as those of the ladies, for reasons, which the curious must seek in the very plain speaking and exceedingly barbarous Latin of John de Mussis' own pages.
One or two other particulars, however, are worth noting. All persons of both sexes, both in summer and in winter, wear shoes, and sometimes hose with soles, or shoes having points three inches long beyond the feet. Ladies and young men wear chains of silver-gilt, or pearls or coral, around their necks. The said youths—these exquisites of Placentia, who have been dust these four hundred years—used to shave their beard, and their hair below the ears, wearing it above that line frizzed and puffed out to as large a circumference as possible. "And some keep one horse, and some two, and some five, et aliqui nullum tenent,"—which naïf-ly lame conclusion puts one in mind of the French bard's description of Marlborough's funeral cortège:
"L'un portait se cuirasse;—L'autre son bouclier;
L'un portait son grand sabre;—L'autre ne portait rien!"
The Placentian youths, who kept horses, our author goes on to tell us, kept grooms also, whose wages were twelve golden florins a-year. Maid-servants had seven golden florins and their food, but not their clothes.
The citizens, too, we are told, make very good cheer. At festivals, especially at marriage feasts, they drink good wine, both white and red. The beginning of the banquet always consists of confections of sugar. The first course is generally formed of one or two capons, and "on each trencher a large piece of meat stewed with almonds and sugar, and spices and other good things." Then boiled meat is served "in magnâ quantitate;" capons, chickens, pheasants, partridges, hares, wild boars, kids, and other meat, according to the time of year. After that, tarts and cakes, with spun sugar on them, are set forth. A copious description of supper, as distinguished from dinner, follows, in which the principal peculiarity seems to be the prevalence of various meats in the form of "gelatine." Supper always ends with fruit,—written always "fluges," indicating a mode of pronunciation still common among the Italian peasantry, who, to the present day, rhyme "molta" to "porta." After the "fluges" comes the following conclusion, several times repeated by the methodical old chronicler, in the same words: "Et post lotis manibus, antequam tabulæ levantur, dant bibere, et confectum zuchari, et post bibere." In Lent they begin with the same formulary, minus the hand-washing; then come figs and peeled almonds; then large fishes, "à la poivrade,"—"ad piperatum;" then rice soup with milk of almonds, and sugar and spices, and salted eels. After these, boiled pike are served with vinegar sauce, or mustard sauce, or cooked with wine and spices. Then nuts and other fruit; to end with "Et post lotis manibus," &c., da capo.
It will be observed, that these luxurious citizens of Placenza had no sea fish to help out their Lenten diet. Communications were too slow and difficult.
A curious description of household furniture follows, which I am deterred from giving only by the fear of increasing this already long note to a wholly unconscionable bulk. The curious will do well to refer to it. The construction of fire-places in the houses is noted as an especial sign of increasing luxury. They have linen curtains, too, around their beds. Many even are so luxuriously magnificent, that they "faciunt duas ignes, unum in caminata, et alium in coquina. Et multi tenent bonas confectiones in domibus eorum de zucharo et de melle. Quæ omnia sunt magnarum expensarum."
These are the causes, concludes this admirer of the good old times, why dowers must needs be given to daughters of four or five hundred golden florins and more; which are then all expended by the bridegroom in dressing the bride, and in nuptial festivities. "And he, who married the said bride, spends, besides the dower, some hundred of golden florins in renovating some of the bride's clothes."
And to meet all these expenses, he says, it must needs be that men seek to make money by unlawful means. Thus are reduced to poverty many, who strive to do what is incompatible with their means.
All very bad certainly; and though the author does not tell us whether any of these extravagant fifteenth-century gentry were directors of Placenza banks, it is probable enough that they were something of the sort. But then all this was four hundred years ago: and the world must have grown wiser since then!
7.—Page 132.
I find this characteristic fact stated in a curious and rare volume on "the History of the Pontificial golden Rose." "La Rosa d'oro Pontificia. Raconto Storico. 1 Vol. 4to. In Roma, 1681." There is a chronological index of all the personages and churches to whom the Rose has been presented, from which I gather that this mark of Apostolic favour has fallen to the lot of England five times in the course of ages. The first was given to Henry IV., by Eugenius IV. The second to Henry VIII., by Leo X. The third to Henry VIII., by Clement VII. The fourth to Queen Mary, by Julius III. The fifth was sent to Queen Henrietta, by Urban VIII., with a message to the effect, that "since that kingdom had fallen from the faith by means of a woman[217] meretriciously adorned with roses incarnadined by the polluted blood of Venus, it might now be recalled and restored to the faith by a royal lady of infinite piety, holily ornamented with this rose grown in the odoriferous gardens of Holy Church, and watered by dews and streams of the fructifying blood of martyrs!!"
It is strange that the only individual to whom the golden rose was ever given a second time, was the most fatal enemy of the Church, Henry VIII.
8.—Page 133.
Crimson, scarlet, and purple were the favorite colours. Any fabric dyed with these cost in the proportion of eighteen to twelve for stuffs of other colours. Ducange ad voc. "Granum;" where he cites Rymer for the above fact. Granum is the French "cramoisi;" Angl. "crimson;" but Ducange seems uncertain whether the dye in question were cochineal, or a vegetable product.
9.—Page 151.
Among the smaller punishments incurred by some of those more or less implicated in these conspiracies, it is worth noting that one well-to-do citizen was fined ninety lire, and all his household furniture, estimated at fifty lire more. This sum may be probably considered as equivalent to about £20 sterling at the present day, and does not give a very favourable idea of the amount of domestic comfort existing among the citizens. Another conspirator was fined an hundred lire, and "all his rich and precious furniture was confiscated." In this case the estimated value is not mentioned. But as the amount of the fine is nearly the same, it is probable that the culprit belonged to about the same sphere of society.
10.—Page 159.
The classical reader may, if curious in such matters, turn to Muratori's columns for the strangely cynical, and wholly unreproducible language, in which Infessura relates the incident. I have written "classical," which is generally understood to mean Latin or Greek readers. And a large portion of Infessura's chronicle is written in very barbarous Latin. But portions, without any apparent reason for the change, are written in Italian. And the passage in question occurs in one of those portions.
11.—Page 190.
The narrative in the text follows the statement of Bonoli and Burriel, which has also all the probabilities of the case to support it. Other historians represent Catherine herself to have come out on the ramparts, and to have turned a deaf ear to the piteous entreaties of her children, that she would give up the fortress, and so save their lives. Some of these writers also recount a tale, which suited as it is to the taste of the vulgar for what is striking, coarsely coloured, and gross, has become the most popularly known incident of Catherine's career. When threatened with the immediate destruction of her children before her eyes, she is said to have replied, in terms more coarse than can be repeated here, that others might come whence those had come, and to have accompanied the assertion by gestures yet more undescribable on an English page.
There is every reason to believe that the whole of this story is an invention. But it is an invention nearly contemporaneous with the events; and, given as it is by its inventors by no means as a blameable trait in the heroine's character, but rather as a proof of commendable energy and vigorous courage, it is curious as an indication of the prevailing manners and feelings of the period.
12.—Page 223.
"Pantaloons does not probably properly express the meaning of 'calze.'" The chronicler means those elastic-knitted garments of silk or wool for the lower half of the person, trowsers and stockings in one, which sat tight to the limb, and the appearance of which is familiar to the eyes of those acquainted with the pictures of the time, especially the great festival paintings of the Venetian school.
13.—Page 264.
This very curious and interesting volume is the property of Signore Pietro Bigazzi, mentioned in a previous note. It was written by Lucantonio Cuppano, secretary to Catherine's son, Giovanni delle Bandenere, who assures us that he copied it from the MS. in Catherine's own hand.
NOTES TO THE LIFE OF VITTORIA COLONNA.
1.—Page 293.
Guiliano Passeri, the author of the diary quoted in the text, was an honest weaver, living by his art at Naples, in the time of Ferdinand of Spain and Charles V. His work appears to have been composed wholly for his own satisfaction and amusement. The entire work is written in the form of a diary. But as the first entry records the coming of Alphonso I. to Naples, on "this day the 26th February, 1443;" and the last describes the funeral of the Marchese di Pescara, Vittoria's husband, on the 12th May, 1526, it is difficult to suppose that these could have been the daily jottings of one and the same individual, extending over a period of 83 years, although it is possible that they may have been so. As the work ends quite abruptly, it seems reasonable to suppose that it was carried on till the death of the writer. The probability is, that the memorials of the earlier years are due to another pen. The work is written in Neapolitan dialect, and concerns itself very little with aught that passed out of Naples. It has all the marks of being written by an eye-witness of the circumstances recorded. The accounts especially of all public ceremonies, gala-doings, etc., are given in great detail, and with all the gusto of a regular sight-seer. And the book is interesting as a rare specimen of the writing and ideas of an artisan of the 16th century.
It was printed in a 4to volume at Naples in 1785, and is rather rare.
2.—Page 319.
These false ducats gave rise, we are told, to the king's saying, that his wife had brought him three gifts:—
Faciem pictam,
Monetam fictam,
to which the ungallant and brutal royal husband added another, the statement of which ending in "strictam," is so grossly coarse, that it cannot be repeated here, even with the partial veil of its Latin clothing.
3.—Page 332.
The translations of the sonnets in the text have been given solely with the view of enabling those, who do not read Italian, to form some idea of the subject-matter and mode of thought of the author, and not with any hope or pretension of presenting anything that might be accepted as a tolerable English sonnet. In many instances the required continuation of the rhyme has not even been attempted. If it be asked, why then were the translations not given in simple prose, which would have admitted a yet greater accuracy of literal rendering?—it is answered, that a translation so made would be so intolerably bald, flat, and silly-sounding, that a still more unfavourable conception of the original would remain in the English reader's mind than that, which it is hoped may be produced by the more or less poetically cast translations given. The originals, printed in every instance, will do justice (if not more) to our poetess in the eyes of those acquainted with her language, for the specimens chosen may be relied on as being not unfavourable specimens. And many readers, probably, who might not take the trouble to understand the original in a language they imperfectly understand, may yet, by the help of the translation, if they think it worth while, obtain a tolerable accurate notion of Vittoria's poetical style.
4.—Page 379.
When Mr. Harford heard these letters read, the exceedingly valuable and interesting museum of papers, pictures, drawings, etc. of Michael Angelo, was the property of his lineal descendant, the late minister of public instruction in Tuscany. When dying, he bequeathed this exceedingly important collection to the "Communità," or corporation of Florence. The Tuscan law requires that the notary who draws a will, should do so in the presence of the testator. Unfortunately, on the sick man complaining of the heat of the room, the notary employed to draw this important instrument, retired, it seems, into the next room, which, as a door was open between the two chambers, he conceived was equivalent to being in presence of the testator, as required by law. It has been decided, however, by the tribunals of Florence, that the will was thus vitiated, and that the property must pass to the heirs at law. An appeal still pending (September 1858) lies to a higher court; but there is every reason to believe that the original judgment must be confirmed. In the mean time, the papers, etc., are under the inviolable seal of the law.
5.—Page 383.
The MS. of François de Holland, containing the notices of Vittoria Colonna, given in the text, is to be found translated into French, and printed in a volume entitled, "Les Arts en Portugal, par le Comte A. Raczynski. Paris, 1846."
My attention was directed to the notices of Vittoria to be found in this volume, by a review of M. Deumier's book on our poetess, by Signor A. Reumont, inserted in the fifth volume of the new series of the "Archivio Storico Italiano, Firenze, 1857," p. 138.
6.—Page 390.
The prayer written by Vittoria Colonna is as follows:—
"Da, precor, Domine, ut eâ animi depressione, quæ humilitati meæ convenit, eâque mentis elatione, quam tua postulat celsitudo, te semper adorem; ac in timore, quem tua incutit justitia, et in spe, quam tua clementia permittit, vivam continue, meque tibi uti potentissimo subjiciam, tanquam sapientissimo disponam, et ad te ut perfectissimum et optimum convertar. Obsecro, Pater Pientissime, ut me ignis tuus vivacissimus depuret, lux tua clarissima illustret, et amor tuus ille sincerissimus ita proficiat ut ad te nullo mortalium rerum obice detenta, felix redeam et secura."